


The games we play - red.

by LeastExpected_Archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Canon - Movie, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Interspecies, M/M, Multi, Multiple Partners, Violent Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-02-04
Updated: 2002-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:41:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26206594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeastExpected_Archivist/pseuds/LeastExpected_Archivist
Summary: by EnideLegolas is having a busy night. But who can tell whan he really wants?
Relationships: Aragorn | Estel/Legolas Greenleaf, Boromir (Son of Denethor II)/Legolas Greenleaf/Gandalf | Mithrandir, Boromir (Son of Denethor II)/Merry Brandybuck/Pippin Took, Gimli (Son of Glóin)/Legolas Greenleaf
Kudos: 2
Collections: Least Expected





	The games we play - red.

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Amy Fortuna, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Least Expected](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Least_Expected), which has been offline since 2002. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on the [Least Expected collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/leastexpected/profile).
> 
> Disclaimer: None, alas.
> 
> Story Notes: This story grew out of all proporions. And please pardone my english.

The repeated knocks on the door had an almost frantic overtone, and Legolas hurried across the room, surprised and slightly worried over what might have caused such nervousness - here, in Imladris, of all places. He reached the door just before a new tirade of banging erupted and had to take an involuntary step back when Aragrorn almost stumbled over him in his eagerness to get inside. The man seemed in a state of alarm; his hair was tousled and his shirt was hanging out from the side of his pants. There was a haunted look in his eyes as if he had suddenly found out that the ground beneath his feet was not as stable as he'd thought.

  * Aragorn? What is wrong? Legolas looked out in the corridors, half expecting to see a horde of orcs come running down it, but it was empty as far as he could see, lit by small silver lamps against the oncoming night. No evil overlord seemed to be lurking in the shadows; no wicked wizards hid in the corners.



Sensing the elf's confusion, Aragorn visibly tried to calmed himself. He took a deep breath and shook his head.

  * Forgive me if I scared you - and for barging in like this. I...., he hesitated, seemingly at a loss for what to say.



Legolas shut the door and took a step closer, thoughtfully and still a bit warily examining the man. Now that they were this close he could smell wine on Aragorns breath, and noticed the slight glaze of his eyes; the elf shook his head with a small sigh.

  * I am not to familiar with the ways of your kind, but drinking to much the night before we set out to destroy the Ring might not have been the most sensible way to spend the evening. Though its not for me to judge you, it seems more like something the dwarf could have done. But come in, sit down. What has happened to you to cause you such distress?



He put a hand on the mans shoulder and led him to a chair before the small, merry fire in the hearth. Aragorn sank down with apparent relief, but the tension remained in his hitched up shoulders. He seemed reluctant to met the elf's questioning eyes.

Aragorn appreciated that Legolas did not press the matter, but gave him some time to collect his thoughts and calm his feelings. The elf was pouring wine into a silver goblet, and from the corner of his eye Aragorn noticed his smooth movements, the grace that seemed to be part of all of his kind. The sight triggered strange emotions, which he quickly pressed down before he could analyse them further.

  * Can I offer you some? Legolas asked. It is very good, a gift from lord Elrond.



It always surprised Aragorn that elves had so dark voices when their appearances where so fair, but he shook his head again, not just to deny but also to clear his mind from the impact of that voice.

  * No, no thank you. All the mess this night started with drinking, so I' ll learn from the lesson. He glanced again as the elf moved over and sat down in a chair beside him, all supple elegance. Those blue, intense eyes met his with nothing but sincere caring and an almost nave innocence. *Well I suppose I should not be the one to judge about navness*.
  * I went to see Boromir this evening, Aragorn started haltingly and fixed his eyes on the fire before him. He had invited me to talk about what happened at the council. I thought it would be a good idea to talk things over, to avoid any kind of competition with in the fellowship. He saw Legolas nod agreement, his fair hair reflecting the light from the fire. Aragorn scowled at himself, a bit worried at the reflection. *Why did I now notice that? Damn Borormir, this is all his fault!*
  * We talked for a while, but he didn't seem very interested in the subject. Araragorn tried not to look at the elf's wet lips as he sipped the wine. He kept serving me more wine, and we got more and more...well, drunk. Boromir started to say...odd things. Giving me strange compliments. Irritated, Arargorn felt a blush rising on his cheeks when he saw the innocent lack of comprehension still in Legolas eyes. *Why am I feeling embarrass? He is probably ten times my age! It' s not as if I have to tell him about birds and bees...But then again, I was the one getting totally surprised by what Boromir did next.*
  * And then, he started grabbing me. Silently, Aragorn cursed the wine in his veins when he saw Legolas go rigid with tension and shock at the clumsy words. He could almost hear the elf's thoughts; *So the legendary of Men's inability to control themselves are true! Will he now try the same with me?*



Before Aragorn could find any words to start assuring him that would not happened, that he, unlike Boromir, could control himself and never would do anything like that, Legolas rose in one fluid motion. His head was lowered, the face hidden behind the long hair. His hand shivered slightly of repressed feelings when he placed the wine goblet on a small table.

Without once looking at the ranger he stepped around his chair until he was standing right behind him. Half frightened that he would get a dagger in his back, Aragorn jumped high in the chair when he felt long, strong fingers on his shoulders. The fear, however, started melting away with the tension as Legolas fingers started to rub the muscles, firmly but gently.

  * You' ll never be able to sleep with all this tension in your shoulders, he mumbled distracted. Boromir...grabbed you? he added half disbelieving.
  * I was so shocked, it was all a could do to get out of there, Aragorn confessed, relaxing more and more as the hands works over his shoulders and upper back. I would never had expected such a move from him.
  * No, neither would I. Legolas sounded both annoyed and confused.



The competent hands and the wine he'd drunken before made Aragorn feel almost drowsy. His mind drifted away, started pondering of what it would be like to feel those fingers against naked skin instead, moving ever further down. Legolas leaned forward to massage his neck, and a few strands of fair hair brushed against Aragorns face, soft as silk. He became very aware of the elf standing behind him, the slim strong body pressed against his when the elf let his hands slide against Aragorns shoulder blades, washing away all tension and fatigue. Trapped in those pleasant daydreams the man could have fallen asleep if it hadn't been for one little snag of clothing in his shirt that kept wrinkling under the Legolas fingers, an incredibly annoyance in the otherwise so comfortable situation. The wine, again, made him speak before he thought.

  * Do you mind if I take of my shirt? The realisation of what he said fell over him like a shower of cold water. _What have I been thinking of? What am I trying to make happen here?_ Before tonight he had never even thought of an other male in this way. *Damn you, Boromir! Damn you! It's you who made me think this way, this is all your fault!*



There was a slight shimmer of wariness in Legolas eyes again, but he nodded.

  * Why, of course. There was a wave of confident in those words, as proof that he still believed in Aragorns integrity despite what he had just heard of Boromir.



Legolas moved over to sip the wine again whiles Aragorn tried to look untroubled when he unbuttoned the shirt and hanged it over another chair. An almost frighteningly amount of new suggestion, triggered by Boromirs behaviour earlier and the strange yearning for Legolas touch, was clouding his mind when he saw the lean figure in the firelight, and he could only hope desperately that the elf did not notice that his body was starting to react on in. He sat down on the chair very quickly, and crossed his legs awkwardly. *I will kill you for this Boromir, I swear it!* Legolas eyes suddenly got larger when he saw the half naked man before him, a new shine in his eyes.

  * What is it? Aragorn asked worried, and cursed himself for not being able to take his eyes of the wine that now coloured the elf's lips. Is anything wrong? I can put it on again if you are uncomfortable.
  * No, it is just that I...He made a vague gesture towards Aragorns chest. Elves do not get such...hair. For a second it was the elf that looked torn between feelings, but then curiosity won. Do you mind if I...touch it?



_Yes! Yes, I do! If you do that, I will probably not be able to control myself!_

  * No, not at all, he heard himself say.



It was a very faint touch, merely brushing over the mat of black hair that covered his chest. Arargorn was quite sure it would not even have touched skin - if it had not been for his nipple. The soft touch of the long fingers over that sensitive area made him almost grasp for breath and it was only with great self control that he managed to ease it. *He didn't even seem to notice! Elves do have nipples to, don't they? And why, why would I so like to find out?!*

There was a faint, satisfied smile on the elf's face when he touched the hair, and Aragorn reminded himself of how almost his kind sometimes could show an almost child-like curiosity for new things, and tried not to think of what it would be like to be able to make the look of satisfaction in the fair face deepened, or indeed to satisfy his own curiosity....He suddenly had to shift his legs again, the position getting more and more awkward.

The hands returned to safer places, Aragorns shoulders, neck and back, but now they did not seem to be able to make him relax. Instead, every touch only enhanced the rush of sensations that ravaged him, teasing and alluring.

  * You are still to tense. Are you sure you do not wish to taste the wine? It might help you to relax.
  * No thank you. His words sounded very hoarse in his own ears, but he must have managed to hide his distress, for Legolas insisted.
  * But it is really very good. Here, taste it. He dipped one finger in the wine goblet and held it out before Aragorns mouth. When the man opened his mouth to protest, the finger slid in.



The velvety taste of the wine blended with the subtle taste of the elf's finger, filling his mouth. The finger caressed over his tongue, as deftly and softly as ever an other tongue and seemed to linger just half a second to long before it withdrew, leaving Aragorn to pant for breath, unable to protect himself from the rush of desire that stormed over him. His body was shaking, and sweat gleamed on his forehead; he had to place his shaking hands in his lap to hide his groin.

Confusion and arousal competed in his mind. * He did not....Did he? No, I will not live up to the elves prejudice that Men are a single minded race whose every thought is about sex! I won't! I won't!*

  * Tell me, Aragorn, Legolas had sat down in the chair opposite him again, apparently completely ignorant of what the mans stiff posture meant, why did you come here after you escaped Boromir? Not that you are not ever welcome, of course.
  * I...am not quite sure. *That' s true. Why did I come here? Was my subconscious already working on these fantasies?* I suppose...I wanted to warn you. In case he came here, I mean.



The elf's eyes suddenly grew dangerously hooded.

  * He would get a surprise if he did. He glanced over at the weapons already prepared for the next days journey, all gleaming edges and smooth wood.
  * You would not kill him? In an instant all other thoughts were washed away, at least temporally. Legolas, I would not let you do that! If I have to I'll sleep here all night to make sure you won't do anything foolish.



Again, Aragorn realised, the wine had made him speak before he could think. He could not possibly sleep an entire night next to the elf, naked and unaware, but there was no way of getting out of this trap he had put himself in.

  * You will do as you think is best, the elf responded rather stiffly, hurt pride flashing in his eyes. But I will get what rest I can now. We will leave early in the morning, and I can not stay up all night because of the ways of untrusting Men.



He rose from the chair and drank the last of the wine. Without another look at the ranger he moved over ho the water bowl by the large bed and filled it with water. He pulled his tunic over his head and folded it beside the bowl revealing an surprisingly muscled back; long smooth muscles for fast and dangerous dagger fighting and arching under unblemished fair skin which moved like silk over the muscles. Aragorn could not have moved even if he had wanted to; his eyes kept moving up those long legs, over the naked back, the shoulders wrapped in that long soft hair. His breaths seemed heavy, but his mouth felt dry, the taste of wine and elf still filling it, his own skin remembering every touch. He felt torn, between what he wanted against his will, and what he knew he must do, also against his will. There was no way out of the dilemma that would leave him satisfied. He wanted more, yearned for more, needed more, but the elf had just made it very clear what he thought of such ideas. He must leave now, before he did something he would regret. _Curse you, Boromir! I blame this on you!_ But he could not let Legolas try to kill the next Steward of Gondor because of that. Chances were to great that he would succeed.

  * I won't leave, Legolas. We can't have the members of the Fellowship kill each other.
  * Of course I would not kill him! The elf moved around the room, extinguishing the lights; the last flicker of each flame seemed to caress over his body like hands. Just make sure that he thought twice before entering my rooms unbidden again.
  * None the less. Aragorns mouth was as dry as a desert, his thoughts a confused spin; words seemed to said that he didn't really want to say. *No, that's a lie. Words I would not dare to say.* I will stay.



Legolas didn't even answer, but raked the ashes over the fire, killing the last light. Blessed darkness fell over them, and Aragorn finally dared to get out of the chair. He could faintly hear Legolas pulling back the covers of the bed - _the very large bed!_ \- and hastened to remove his boots and then, in cover of the night, his pants, to the great relief of the parts of him that were starting to chafe. He had slid under the blankets before he remembered that elves had no problem seeing in the dark.

The bed was large, and the only implication that he was not alone was the slight depression of the mattress, but the mere knowledge of the elf, lying in only his small clothes an arms length away was enough to make Aragorns mind race, and his body seemed stiff as a plank, covered in sweat. He wanted to reach out, to touch, to...desperately, he wrung his mind from those thoughts, tried vainly to sleep.

After what seemed like hours of slow torture, he heard Legolas move under the covers again, and suddenly felt warm breath on his cheek. The bed was suddenly all to small.

  * Does sleep evades you also? A small sigh followed the words, and Aragorns found himself breathing in the scent of the elf. Forgive me my harsh words before. I did not mean to imply that all of your kind is untrustworthy.



*But I am! Don't put you trust in me right now!* He could not find any words.

  * If you are still to tense to sleep, I can help you. There was a tone of asking forgiveness in Legolas voice, and before Aragorn could react he had swung one leg over the man and straddled him. It was the grace of Valar that he was laying on his stomach so that the elf sat on his butt. *But of course, Legolas knew that, since he can se in this darkness. Otherwise he would most certainly never have done that!* Then he almost lost all control as by sense he realised that the elf was not wearing any small clothes - he was totally naked, and the only thing separating them was Aragorns own underwear. Sweat broke born from wave after wave of desire sweeping his body. He clenches his jaws against the ragging breaths, clenched his hands on the bed sheet to stop them from wandering.



Again, those strong hands where all over his back, rubbing, massaging, caressing...The breath broke free from his lounges, as hard and pulsating as all other parts of his body.

  * Aragorn? Legolas leaned forward, his face just a few inches from the mans, lips so close they shared breath, body brushing against body along al their length. Is something wrong? You seem to grow more tense, not less. Should I help you elsewhere?



Unable to control himself anymore, Aragorn reached out and took his hand. Half turning, he let the unprotesting hand slide down his chest, down towards his groin.

  * Yes, he hissed. Please.



In the darkness which his eyed had finally grown used to, he could se the thoughtful look on the beautiful face. Long fingers sliding up and down his groin, Aragorn didn't think he would be able to react even if the elf had drawn a dagger, but he was still completely unprepared at Legolas words.

  * This seems to delicate a muscle for my hands. Before Aragorn found any words to say that no muscle could be to delicate for those fingers, the elf had already bent down, and closed his mouth around him.



His pride said he lasted for ten seconds. It was probably closer to five.

Panting in the afterwaves of release, still shame filled Aragorn. He had not showed any more self control than Boromir, and although Legolas had reacted unpredictably to the situation, Aragorn still felt as if he had taken advantage of an innocent situation. *How can I blame Boromir now? I' m no better my self.* In the darkness Legolas face was an unreadable mask.

  * I...am sorry, Aragorn fumbled with the words. I own you...
  * Yes, you do. Now the elf smiled. And since none of us can sleep....



Some hours later, Legolas and Boromir was sitting on a porch, looking out over the sleeping Imladris. The man seemed slightly grumpy, the elf slightly smug.

  * I still can believe I practically drove him to your bed, Boromir complained annoyed.
  * What were you expecting, just grabbing on to him like that? Legolas shook his head, but in his eyes Boromir could still se the embers of desire smouldering. *Well, it is true about elven stamina, that is for certain. I know that by experience. *
  * Worked when you did it on me, didn't it? Boromir smiled at the memory.
  * You were a lot more open minded. The elf almost smirked. But it was not easy, trying to get him to think it was he who did the seduction. Your kind has some strange restraints and behaviours. I do not know which was hardest to hide, laughter or arousal.
  * So what was he like, then?
  * You mean compared to you, I suppose? When are the two of you going to give up your silly competitions? But to answer your question, very innocent, but what he lacked in experience he more than made up for with passion. That's as much answer as you will get; I won't grade you.
  * As you wish, then. But I suppose it is 2 - 1 to my advantage in _our_ competition, Boromir concluded. A faint sound made him half turn, but he saw nothing in the shadows, and the elf did not react, so he supposed no one was eaves dropping on them.
  * I still can't believe you got to Merry and Pippin before I did, Legolas added both amused and annoyed. I should have realised that it would only work if they were together.
  * Yes, those hobbits most certainly surprised me! And taught me a thing or two...no wonder they so enjoy their farming lives so much....So whom next then? Not the dwarf, that would not be fair. He would probably rip of all his clothes if you as much as looked at him. Frodo, or Sam...or Gandalf?
  * Not Gandalf, I think. We must not forget that he is old, and fragile. We might need his full resources in the times to come, so we should not wear him out...
  * That's quite enough! Boromir jumped high and turned around swearing with surprised fright as the enraged wizard seemed to appear out of thin air, beard bristling and eyes flaring with anger.
  * By all that's holy, Gandalf, you scared me half to death! The wizard shot the man a killing glare, but ignored him. Legolas remained sitting, seemingly calm, although he recoiled slightly as Gandalf strode over and placed himself in front of him, hands on his hips, trembling with rage.
  * Well met Mithrandir...he started, but the wizard interrupted him.
  * What are these lies you are spreading?! He snapped in a hissing voice that must have woken up half of Imladris. What are these....follies you are conjuring up?
  * Elven kind can not lie, Mithrandir. Since I had no way of knowing, I just shared my thoughts, my assumptions...
  * Really? The wizards eyes still flared, but now they were roving over the elf, who patiently endured the examination. Then I suppose I have no choice but to take you out of you misunderstandings. If you dare, I invite you to come with me - right now! Both of you!
  * Both? Legolas eyebrows rose, as close to looking surprised as Boromir had ever seen him - *well, except when I told him about Merry and Pippin* - ; the man gave him a teasing smile as the elf's smugness fell slightly. *He had probably assumed he could even out the scores here and now. Well, no such luck, elf.*



Some of Gandalfs self-righteous anger and confident fell as he led them along the abandoned corridors of Rivendell. The light, silent steps of Legolas was barely hearable, whiles Boromirs heavy strides echoed down the hallways, drowning out the wizards'. He might have acted a bit presumptuous on this, and what kind of folly implied him to ask them both in? The more he thought about it, the more certain he became that he was well out of his league here. The very presence of the two of them radiated eagerness and excitement, and although Gandalf could not deny the contagiousness of their arousal, he suspected that they would prove more than his match.

He almost - almost - sighed with relief when a door opened and the lord of Rivendell, master Elrond took a step out, a worried look on his face. With a bit of luck there was an army of raving uruk-hais on the march towards Imladris, or perhaps Frodo had claimed the Ring for himself, or Arwen had suddenly decided to charge Barad - Dr on her own - anything, really, that the wizard felt he could handle. - What's wrong master Elrond? He asked, stopping his little cortege. You look worried.

  * Worried? He looked a bit confused at the obvious eagerness in the wizards voice, but seemed to decided that an explanation probably would take all night. No, I am just wondering...someone seems to have plundered the pantry again. I would expect those hobbits Meriadoc and Peregrin, considering all the mushrooms and pastries that has gone missing, but what in middle earth are they going to do with all that oil and butter? Not to mention the carrots...



Despite the darkness, it was quite impossible to miss the blush on Boromirs face or the hastily repressed laughter from Legolas. Gandalf seemed to get more and more uncomfortable with every word. A sudden comprehension lit Elronds face, and a faint smile played at his lips.

  * At least they will leave tomorrow, he sighed amused. But where are you going so late?
  * Just an informal meeting, Legolas said quickly before Gandals had time to speak. The wizard glared at him, but Legolas and Elrond exchanged one of those totally innocent looks that elves where so god at, and there were nothing he could do about it. Boromir, at the other hand, sniggered.
  * Oh, I see. Well, I will not disturb you further then. He closed the door behind him, but Gandalf was sure he could hear laughter from the other side anyway.



When they reached his chambers, Gandalf was visibly nervous, his hands shaking as he closed the door behind them. He had not left any lights burning when he left, so the only light came from the smouldering embers on the hearth. Their soft glow didn't do much more than soften the shadows. He could clearly make out Bormirs sturdy shape, but the elf seemed to have disappeared, which only enhanced his nervousness.

  * Would you want some wine? the wizard offered, desperate to postpone the inevitable.
  * It's to late at night for that, Gandalf. Boromir stepped closer - very close - and his large hand moved with surprising tenderness over the wizards broad chest, up over his bearded cheek. He leaned forward, kissing the wizard tenderly. Fierce feelings of desire arouse in Gandalf, desires he thought he had long forgotten. Boromir seemed surprised when the wizard demandingly answered the kiss; his hands fumbled with Gandalfs robe, but did not seem able to open them, his fingers suddenly clumsy. Two other hands swept up from behind, slid along the wizards back, tracing new yearnings, up through his hair and neck to finally remove the wizards hat; respectfully Legolas placed it on a chair next to the bed.



Obviously annoyed at the delay, the elf then snuggled in between the man and the wizard, deftly untying the strings and opening the buttons. Boromir did not seem irritated at being pushed back, instead giving his attention to the elf while his hands were busy; Gandalf could se Legolas eyes cloud over with desire as the mans hands climbed over his body. In that instance the wizards robe suddenly fell to the floor, leaving him exposed to the clever, smooth hands of the elf. Both the mans and the elf's eyes suddenly got larger when they first saw the broad, muscled torso, covered with white hair, and Gandalf felt a burst of confidence, enough to make him mimic the caresses back towards Legolas. The elf was now caught between two bodied pressing in on him, two pairs of hands caressing him, and two pair of lips searching over him and he was trembling with arousal. Boromir let his hands slip down to Legolas waist and pulled his tunic over his head; the skin smoother than anything the wizard ever felt, and sweet to his lips and tongue. Shortly afterwards, the mans heavier clothing fell to the floor. The surge of confident that Gandalf had felt before crumpled when seeing them both naked, one long and fair and smooth as silk over steel, the other strong and heavy, with broad shoulders that the wizard could never match.

The lack of confident, however, soon drowned in the ancient demands of his body.

When the wizard had fallen asleep, exhausted and satisfied, Boromir and Legolas quietly got dressed and left the room. The man leaned heavily on the door once closed, his relaxed stance and the dazed glance in his eyes betraying his own satisfaction and weariness.

  * That would make it 3-2, I suppose, he said. Although I have to admit that you probably did all the work, before on the porch. How do you do to make everybody think it is their idea to drag you to bed?
  * I did nothing to fool you, did I? Legolas did not seem tired, if anything his eyes where even more alight with deisre now than before.
  * That whole show at the council was quite enough. I don't know how you knew that having a row makes me excited...
  * Must be a distracting feat when arguing at the courts of Gondor.
  * Alas, too few ever argues with the next Steward. He smiled tiredly. But now I am going to bed - alone. I need some sleep.
  * Perhaps you will wake to see that I have set the scores even, then.



Boromir gave the elf a surprised glance; the elf did not seem tired, but rather in some kind of a rouse, his eyes roving like a hunters after a new quarry. He appeared almost drunken, dizzied by desire. *Some men get bloodthirsty after their first kill; seems the elf got an appetite for mortal flesh now.*

  * Really. Whome, may I ask...no, wait, a foolish question. Gimli. The dwarf, of course.
  * As you pointed out, I did all the work with Gandalf. I am allowed one easier...point.



He turned and almost raced along the corridors towards Gimlis rooms. Boromir watched him disappear into the gloom, and an evil thought entered his mind. *I think you are about so see that not all mortals are as easy to tire, elf, and I do hope the dwarf will prove more than enough for you, before your ego carries you to far.* Exhausted but chuckling he made his way towards his own chambers.

  * Yes, yes! From behind the door Legolas could hear the sleepy, grumpy voice of Gimli, scuffling towards the door. So he had been wrong earlier this evening when he racked down on the dwarf to Aragorn; Gimli seemed to be the only one in the fellowship who had actually gone to bed in the intention to sleep this night.



The door was pulled open with unnecessary force, and the sleepy - eyed dwarf peered out. He had only pulled in his pants in the haste, and the red braided beard all but disappeared into the almost fur-like hair on his chest. Obviously the knocks on the door had woken him up from deep sleep. His grumpy expression changed, however, when he saw who was standing outside, and turned into a wide awake surprise.

  * Do you mind if I step in? Legolas asked and barely waited for the dwarf to step aside before he entered the room; he was feeling almost as if drunk with fine wine, the nights earlier successes making him feel reckless and almost invincible. The look on the dwarfs face only enhanced the feeling of being irresistibly desirable, not to mention quite a lot more clever than the rest of the fellowship. After all, both Aragorn and Gandalf - and Boromir - was sleeping exhausted because of him, were they not? The departure tomorrow would probably be postponed somewhat, but Elrond would probably understand. Almost half the fellowship satisfied in one night, and still, no such satisfaction for himself...
  * I'll just put on a shirt, Gimli mumbled, unable to take his eyes of the elf but still self aware enough to realise that he was half naked.
  * No need. If you are uncomfortable...Legolas pulled his tunic over his head for what must be the third time this night, again basking in wide eyed admiration at his slim muscles and fair skin. *Boromir was right. Gimli would do anything I asked him to. Now, what will I ask?* His smile almost turned into a smirk as a number of suggestions presented themselves.
  * It is said that dwarves love beauty more than any other race, he continued. Is that so?
  * I would think so. Gimlis eyes had suddenly taken on a new sheen, a strange yearning unlike any other Legolas had seen this evening. It made him slightly nervous, but the dwarf's desire at seeing the half- naked elf was obvious in other parts than his eyes.
  * We do love fairness, but mostly we like the beauty we create ourselves. And although our tools might seem rough and our workings hard, seldom do we fail to bring out the most beautiful core where others fail.



To Gimlis surprise Legolas sat down crossed legged on the soft carpet in front of the fire, meeting him eye to eye. The smell and indeed, sheen, of desire was swirling around him, almost thick enough to touch. That the elf had come here from some other bed was apparent, but through the shimmer of unsatisfied arousal that still clouded his eyes, Gimli could see something else...It was hard to collect his thoughts through the desire that swept his own body, the embers that had started glowing the first time he ever saw the long legged, golden haired elf, no fanned to a raging fire.

  * Do you then think I am beautiful? A friend of mine said you did - that you would do whatever I wanted.



Gimlis mind raced; he would indeed have done anything for a night spent together. But now the elf was here of his own free will, and he would leave just as soon, as he had other beds tonight, if Gimli did not do something to make Legolas remember him, something that the others had missed in his eyes. The real desire, hidden behind the other, a kind of desperation. A yearn for the true satisfaction, reached in a way that he probably did not even admit to himself.

His line of thought almost broke when the elf, taking his hesitation as coyness, reached out and took the dwarf's hand, sliding it over his own smooth chest, up to his face where he let the dwarfs stubby finger slide in to his mouth, sucking it gently.

  * Whatever you want? Gimli gasped, but continued. How about what you need?
  * Yes, why not? The elf mumbled around his finger, the warm, clever tongue wrapping itself around the dwarf's finger until he was panting with arousal. But still he hesitated. *If I have misunderstood his desires, he will kill me. And if I have understood correctly, he might still kill me....But since when did a dwarf back away in the face of danger? Nothing ventured, nothing gained...*



He moved closer to Legolas, softly freeing his trapped hand from the elf's grip. With mild force he pressed him backwards, until Legolas was lying on his back on the soft carpet, eyes glittering with anticipation. In the soft glow of the embers, red against his white skin, every muscle a perfect, slim shadow, he was the most desirable creature Gimli had ever seen as he took a few paces forward, leaning over the body that were so fundamentally different from his own that he felt a sudden surge of uncertainty. He should be ever so grateful that the elf was even here, that such a proud and magnificent being even choose to pay him any attention at all. By all rights he should be worshiped, surrendered to. What right had he to do what he was about to do...But that, Gimli realised was just what everyone else had been thinking. And that had not brought the elf any satisfaction.

Legolas did apparently not appreciate the hesitation; he reached up to caress the dwarfs broad shoulders and chest, but Gimli caught his hands, softly but firmly and pressed them down, over his golden head.

Slightly uncertain, Legolas let it happened, obviously confused at what the dwarf was doing. He did not realise it until it was to late, when the straps of leather was already around his wrists and twisted behind the foot of a heavy wardrobe.

  * What is this? He hissed, surprised and angered. What do you think you are doing?
  * Giving you what you need, not what you want. He jumped back as the elf aimed a fierce kick at his direction, his eyes glowing with rage, but buried behind that the strange desire that he had withheld for so long was flowing into fire - a fire that Legolas seemed to try to fight down by every way possible.



Before he could kick again, Gimli threw himself over him, straddling the elf, his sheer weight enough to press him still. He hissed with anger as the strong hands started caressing his chest, trying to buckle and throw the dwarf of him, but that was impossible. A faint sheen of sweat was glistering over the length of his body. Gimli would not realise the importance of that until many weeks later, when not even a whole day of running after uruk-hais made the elf sweat as he did now. His fair face was a mixture of rage and arousal, pride fighting desire.

  * You can't free yourself, Gimli told him, following his sharp features with a light finger. You are all mine now. So you might as well...submit.



It was in that instance he realised that he had underestimated the elf. Legolas was very well aware of the source of his desire, and it scared him; the fear clear in his eyes. Frightened him so much he felt he had to deny it. *But why?*

  * Do not fear. Gimli leaned forward, slightly worried about the change in emotions and caught the elf's trashing head in one hand. I will not hurt you.



He held him still, despite Legolas attempts to tear himself loose and pressed their lips together, letting his tongue slip in to taste the sweetness of his mouth. The elf stiffened, but something changed in this position, a strange resignation. When they broke free, anger still flared in his eyes, but he was not longer trashing around.

  * Yes, he hissed, you will. If you are determined to take this game to its end, then you do it all the way - or free me this instance!



Gimli leaned back, shocked by the revelation, but there were no way he would let the elf go - not now. His caresses got more and more rough, encouraged by Legolas heavier breathing as pain and pleasure became more and more inseparable. His callused hand found one stiff nipple, and rubbed over and over again, until Legolas panted:

  * It..hurts...But his groin was growing ever harder under Gimlis weight.
  * Yes it does, doesn't it? Gimli found himself enormously exhilarated by the masochistic game. And what are you going to do about it? You are trapped, caught, at my disposal...He started moving back and forward, pressing their groins together, feeling the shivers of desire rippling through the elf's body, his eyes now in total surrender to the desire. Again Gimli pressed their lips together, invading his mouth and forcing the kiss on him.



He grabbed the soft hair, pulled Legolas head back and exposing the vulnerable neck and burying his teeth in the smooth skin, just hard enough to draw a faint tickle of blood, salt to his tongue. The elf's breathing was now fast and shallow, his body twitching with urge for release, but Gimli would not comply so easily. He grabbed the tender parts in a hard grip through the cloth which made Legolas jerk up with a wheezing sound, until the leather straps pulled him back down. In the still to hard grip, he rubbed it up and down, every move sending new waves of desire through the elf. Then, in one harsh movement, he ripped the pants open, and took the unprepared elf in his mouth.

  * For the sake of..., do you have anything but teeth in that mouth? Legolas grasped as sharp pain tore the delicate skin, but his hips was starting to push rhythmically. When the dwarf withdrew, it was just with the last shreds of pride that he stopped himself from whimpering - or, even worse, begging.
  * Not so easy, he murmured. Deliberately slow he removed his own pant, exposing his own desire which had been climbing to the almost unbearable. He disappeared momentarily from Legolas sight and when he returned he held a small bottle, from which the smell of oil came.
  * What is that? The elf asked, his eyes large with fear and arousal.



Gimli hesitated, as if not quite sure he should tell him. Then he squatted next to him, letting his hand slide underneath the elf and caressing his butt. The elf shuddered at the touch. - Weapon oil, he said finally, for keeping weapons from rusting. Nice and slick - feel for your self. He dipped one finger in the bottle; it came out glistering with oil, and before Legolas had quite comprehended what was about to happened, the finger was inside him, sliding smoothly in and out. The intrusion made him shudder; the pleasure made him whimper. When the finger disappeared he could no longer stop himself.

  * Do not...stop. Please. I...beg of you....



He made no protest when he was pushed over, no laying on his stomach. He could no longer see what the dwarf did, and so was unprepared when the real penetration came. The air left his lounges in one long exhalation, the smoothness, the largeness, moving in and out in him, the weight and panting of the dwarf on his back, it all contributed, and when a callused hand moved beneath him and grabbed him again, he could not control himself.

Shortly after, in a shuddering orgasm, Gimli came too.

When he rolled of, sweating and panting, he could not meet the elf's eyes. Slowly he moved up and untied the knots keeping Legolas down. He half expected the elf to fly into rage, but he just lay still, limbs still trembling with mixed emotions.

  * Why? Gimli asked at last. If you wanted...submission, if you were tired of being the one in control, why could you not say so? Why did you not dare to admit it?
  * Do you not see? Legolas answered heavy, turning his head to look at Gimli. The after waves of satisfaction were clear in his eyes, but there were something new too, a glint of self disgust that marred his features. This...weakness in me is an old curse of my people, stronger in some than others. Very strong in me. I have spent my life trying to repress it. It speaks of the greatest fear and shame of the elves - that some, in the beginning of time, surrendered - no, submitted! - to the dark side. To the side of pain and submission. To become orcs. How could I ever admit to that!
  * You are a fool, Gimli said, not unkindly. Things like this only grow if you deny them. What are you afraid of? That you would betray us all to the orcs?
  * No. But if the men or the hobbits found out...I fear that you would all think that I would.
  * Ah, I see. They were both quiet for a while, then Gimli added: I suppose we will just have to keep this a secret, won't we? But I will ask one thing in return; from now on you are with me, and I with you. No one else.
  * So be it then. Legolas smile was faint and sleepy. I suppose I have to tell Boromir the competition is over. He won.
  * What competition?



Legolas told him, and Gimli barked a laugh.

  * Really? So it is even now. Who were left?
  * Frodo and Sam. But I do not think we would have succeeded with any of them. They are too tight together, and far to innocent. Even Aragorn finally got it - and he's still sleeping in my bed, by the way.



Gimil nodded, and again they sat silent. The next time the dwarf looked over, Legolas was a sleep, a content smile on his lips.

Early the next morning a tired fellowship waited at the porch; they were still one short. Frodo and Sam, standing a bit away from the rest noted the grumpy, tired looks on Gandalf and Aragorns faces, their usually friendly dispositions gone, now snapping at everybody as if they finally got that some joke had been made at their expense. Boromir looked as if he could barely keep from laughing, and Merry and Pippin was sniggering as soon as they looked at either the ranger or the wizard, and so got scowled at a lot. Several times Arargorn looked as if he wanted to kick them.

Gimli was looking extremely innocent - to innocent too fool anybody. Boromir, looking very smug, repressed laughter every time he looked in that direction. In all, it left Frodo and Sam completely confused.

Finally, a sleepy Legolas rushed out the door, hair still in wild disorder, and a distracted look on his face; he was still trying to get his bow over the shoulder.

  * Sorry, sorry, he muttered. I must have...overslept...



That did it for Boromir; he roared with laughter, tears of joy running down his cheeks. Very soon Merry and Pippin - obviously getting the joke fell into the laughter. Legolas first looked offended, but soon enough he started laughing to. Gimli still tried to look innocent, but a red flush of pride arose on his face. Aragorn and Gandalf still glared at everybody, standing stiff and annoyed. Frodo and Sam exchanged confused looks.

  * What is going on here? Sam whispered.
  * I don't know, Frodo answered. Seems something happened last night, when the both of us were...ehh...sleeping...




End file.
